


whipped cream and strawberries

by lesbianpatrick



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, Just read, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, idek what else to tag it, this is literally just mindless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7874419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianpatrick/pseuds/lesbianpatrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em><br/>“Y’know, I’m pretty sure one of us promised to make pancakes today.” Patrick begins slowly, grinning when Joe rolls his eyes. “And I totally can’t cook pancakes. Must’ve been you.”</em>
</p>
<p>literally just mindless joetrick fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	whipped cream and strawberries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tommythedankengine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommythedankengine/gifts).



> this is for my friend caroline,,, thanks for screaming about joetrick with me you inspired me to write this cheesy shit
> 
> yeah so this is the first joetrick ive ever written because i have only recently descended into joetrick hell (and i love it here)
> 
> enjoy!

The coffeemaker whirrs insistently as Patrick sits and waits for it to finish. He wonders if maybe they need to get a quieter coffeemaker, but then realizes that he actually doesn’t give a fuck and just gets up to pour two cups of coffee.

He walks back into the bedroom with the mugs, and sets both down on the nightstand. He then proceeds to squeeze Joe’s shoulder (not very lightly, if he’s being honest) and say, “Hey, babe. Wake up. Coffee’s ready.”

Instead of getting up, Joe rolls over and mutters something about democracy. This happens every morning.

“If you don’t want a repeat of the knee incident, I’d highly recommend you get your ass out of bed.” Patrick crosses his arms, voice losing the sweet quality it had earlier.

It has the desired response; Joe sits bolt upright and stares wide-eyed at Patrick. “Fuck, no, you aren’t allowed to knee me in the face anymore! I told you!”

Patrick snorts and picks up Joe’s coffee, handing it to him. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Joe grumpily replies, taking a long sip of his coffee and holding his glare with Patrick. Patrick isn’t bothered. He knows it won’t last long.

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure one of us promised to make pancakes today.” Patrick begins slowly, grinning when Joe rolls his eyes. “And I totally can’t cook pancakes. Must’ve been you.”

“Fuck off, I just woke up.” Joe mutters, downing half his coffee in one sip.

“Yeah, well, counterpoint: I was promised pancakes.” Patrick responds, retrieving his own mug of coffee and smirks when it’s obvious Joe has conceded. 

“I’ll make pancakes, okay? Just gimme a sec.” Joe mumbles, downing the rest of his coffee and groaning dramatically.

Patrick grins. “Thanks, babe!” He presses a neat kiss to Joe’s forehead (savoring the moment, because Joe’s usually the one kissing _his_ forehead; it’s naturally easier that way since Joe is taller) and leaves Joe to finish waking up.

Patrick has poured himself a second cup of coffee by the time Joe finally emerges, wearing a t-shirt and shorts and still suffering extreme bedhead, and he’s sipping at it as he watches his boyfriend struggle to find the ingredients.

“Patrick, I love you, really, but stop constantly rearranging our cupboards.” Joe mutters, frowning as he finally locates the flour.

Patrick shrugs. “Sometimes I think we just need a change of pace.”

“More like every other day.” Joe mutters, and Patrick doesn’t respond, but inwardly makes note to switch up the cupboards more often, just to bother Joe.

Thirty minutes must pass like this, with Joe slowly waking up and working on the pancakes, and Patrick watching him intently as he downs cup after cup of coffee that Joe probably needs more than he does.

Eventually, sitting around doing nothing becomes boring, and Patrick takes to standing behind Joe with his arms wrapped around his waist as Joe tries to flip pancakes nonetheless. It’s a known fact that Patrick tends to be clingy in the mornings.

“You’re really limiting my mobility here.” Joe comments, managing to barely catch a pancake that flew at least a foot into the air when he flipped it. (Patrick admires Joe’s pancake flipping skills.)

Patrick just shrugs and tightens his grip, burying his face in Joe’s neck. (The one perk of being shorter: Joe’s neck is at his eye level.)

After this has gone on for about fifteen minutes, Joe apologetically wrestles himself free from Patrick (“Sorry, babe, breakfast is almost ready, just sit down, okay?”) and works on plating the finished pancakes. Patrick goes to sit down, pulling out a chair at their small kitchen table (the dining room is really only for when they have people over) and waiting.

Within only a minute, Joe sets a plate in front of Patrick. It has six pancakes stacked high, with a dollop of butter on top and maple syrup dripping down the sides. Patrick frowns. Something’s missing.

Joe seems to read his mind, because he says, “Whipped cream’s in the fridge, get it yourself.”

“Asshole.” Patrick says fondly, pushing out his chair and heading to the fridge to retrieve his whipped cream. There’s a small container of sliced strawberries next to it, so he takes those too.

Back at the table, Patrick makes a large mound of whipped cream on top of his pancake stack, and then arranges strawberry slices in a star pattern around the mound.

“There.” He declares, beaming at his masterpiece. “Perfect.”

“Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t prepare your meal exactly as you desired, O Picky One.” Joe drawls sarcastically, taking a bite out of one of his pancakes.

“Yeah, you’re a terrible boyfriend.” Patrick agrees just as sarcastically, taking a bite of one of his own sugar-coated pancakes.

Joe laughs, then stares intently at Patrick. Rather than find it creepy, Patrick just stares back.

In one swift motion, Joe swipes a bit of whipped cream from Patrick’s pancakes and plants it on the tip of Patrick’s nose. He sits back, satisfied.

“Hey!” Patrick frowns. Rather than just wipe the whipped cream off, like any sane person, he becomes convinced that his tongue could reach the whipped cream dot, and so he begins sticking his tongue straight up in an attempt to lick it off the tip of his nose.

Joe watches all this in amusement, laughing as Patrick repeatedly fails to clean the whipped cream off his nose.

“Stop laughing, you did this in the first place.” Patrick complains, making a final failed attempt before groaning and giving up.

“So I’ll fix it.” Joe leans across the small table and lightly kisses Patrick’s nose, effectively removing the whipped cream.

“Thanks.” Patrick says, blushing slightly, but then suddenly he freezes. “Wait! Did you just steal my cream?”

“No idea what you’re talking about, babe.” Joe shrugs, looking smug. 

“You totally did.” Patrick glowers, quickly stuffing a forkful of pancake and whipped cream (ninety-nine percent whipped cream) into his mouth like he’s afraid Joe will steal that too.

Joe laughs at the look on Patrick’s face. “Aw, you’re cute when you’re angry!”

Patrick flips him off, before breaking into a grin and leaning across the table to kiss him. Joe meets him halfway, and they kiss for a few seconds before Patrick suddenly realizes that there was whipped cream on his lips.

He pulls away and frowns. “Fuck, I gave you more whipped cream!”

Joe laughs. “Yes, you did. You’re playing right into my game, and soon all your whipped cream will be mine.”

“No it won’t.” Patrick shakes his head, proceeding to stuff his mouth with whipped cream-loaded pancake, making sure Joe can’t get at it. Joe watches his antics in amusement, slowly eating his own pancakes.

When Patrick is done, he grins at Joe. “I win! No more whipped cream for you to steal.”

Joe grins back. “I beg to differ.” He reaches out and swipes a small bit of whipped cream off Patrick’s cheek, popping it into his mouth.

“Foul play!” Patrick insists, grin turning to a glare, then back to a grin as he suddenly grabs the whipped cream can that’s still on the table and begins spraying it all into his mouth.

“Damn, I think you win.” Joe laughs as he watches Patrick spray an entire can of whipped cream into his mouth.

When he’s sure the can is empty, Patrick meets Joe’s eyes. “Yeah, I do win.” He snatches the remaining strawberry slices and adds, “And the strawberries are mine too.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey id love if u could send me joetrick prompts
> 
> hmu at tumblr- vicesandvelociraptors
> 
> thank


End file.
